


Raspberry Swirl

by circ_bamboo



Category: Star Trek (2009)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-10-10
Updated: 2010-10-10
Packaged: 2017-10-18 07:05:55
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,760
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/186271
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/circ_bamboo/pseuds/circ_bamboo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Cait, Phil, and food. Don't worry: nothing that would cause distress to delicate areas.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Raspberry Swirl

**Author's Note:**

> For [](http://boosette.livejournal.com/profile)[**boosette**](http://boosette.livejournal.com/): shameless, fluff-tastic food porn and then angsty porn with food. (Originally posted in two parts.) It sort of fits into a "***" section in [Starting Over](http://archiveofourown.org/works/131084) but it can be read as just a random interlude on earth. Title shamelessly filched from Tori Amos. Also: [brownie recipe](http://thebakingpan.com/Cookies/espressobrownies.html), [sangria recipe](http://www.ezrapoundcake.com/archives/6745).

Phil came into the kitchen, attempting to flatten his hair into something resembling order. Cait was standing at the counter, mixing what looked like melted chocolate into a pile of flour. It smelled amazing, though--chocolate, vanilla, and, if he wasn't mistaken, coffee. (And he was rarely mistaken about coffee.) "What are you making?" he asked.

Cait looked up. "Phil, I'm pretty sure that is the ugliest bathrobe in the galaxy."

He raised an eyebrow. "I'm not wearing it to seduce you, Cait." That cat was pretty firmly out of the bag, considering how they'd spent all of last night. And the early part of that morning. Also, all she was wearing was one of his old Starfleet Medical t-shirts. "Cake?"

"No, brownies," she said. "Double-chocolate espresso brownies."

He reached around her, stuck his index finger in the batter, ignoring her indignant, "Hey!" and dabbed it onto her neck, exposed when she'd tied her hair up in anticipation of cooking. He licked the chocolate off of her skin, sucking briefly to make sure he'd gotten all of it.

She shivered, but reached back and smacked him on the arm. "You're lucky I haven't showered yet."

Yes. Yes, he was. "You still smell like us," he said, inhaling.

Cait sighed, but elbowed him until he gave her a little more room. Spreading the brownie batter out in a pan, she popped it in the oven and set the timer.

"What's all this for?" he asked.

She gave him a look. "Chris and One are coming by this afternoon. I thought I'd cook."

"Oh." He'd thought when she said she'd cook that perhaps she'd throw something on the grill and order in the rest, but he did have a decent kitchen. "So what are we having?"

"Brownies, of course. In the fridge I've got some cilantro-lime chicken marinating, and I have to make the mango salsa later. You can toss together a salad just before they get here--" She grinned at him. "--and there's chips and regular salsa--probably not hot enough for Chris and his Southwestern taste buds, but it'll do for the rest of us. I've got zucchini and squash; they'll be roasted after the brownies are done. Oh." She pointed to a pile of various fruits and bottles on the counter. "And I have to mix the sangria now, so it'll have enough time to chill."

"Sounds good," he said, sliding one hand up her thigh to her hip. Damn. She'd put on underwear under the shirt.

Cait laughed, shook his hand off, and started slicing the fruit and throwing it in a large pitcher he didn't recognize. Once she'd gotten through a lemon, a peach, and a handful of strawberries, she opened up the clamshell holding the raspberries and threw it in wholesale. He made disappointed noises, and she reached in, pulled one out, and held it out to him.

"I'd rather eat it out of your navel," he said, and watched her pupils suddenly dilate. Instead, she placed it on her tongue and leaned forward.

He leaned in to meet her, touching his lips to hers and taking the raspberry with his tongue. He bit into it, even while their mouths were still sealed together, the sweet-tart juice flooding his mouth, and opened up to let her lick the juice off of his tongue.

A long, raspberry-flavored moment later, she broke away and said throatily, "I have to finish this."

"And then what?" he asked.

"And then we have about forty-five minutes until the brownies are done." She grinned, and he smiled back.

"Okay."

* * *

Phil watched, leaning against the counter, as Cait measured out various alcohols and dropped them into the pitcher on top of the fruit, and then filled the pitcher up the rest of the way with what appeared to be white zinfandel. She gave the whole thing a quick stir with a wooden spoon, covered it with a piece of plastic wrap, and pushed various items out of the way in the fridge so there was room for the pitcher. She set the pitcher on the top shelf and closed the fridge before turning back to the counter to clean up her mess.

She turned back to Phil a moment or two later, holding two bowls: one containing various small pieces of fruit, and the other holding about a spoonful of brownie batter. He took them both from her, and she crossed her arms in front of her and pulled off the t-shirt in one swift move, shimmying out of her underwear a moment later. "So what did you want to do with the fruit?" she asked, smiling.

Phil set the bowls on the counter and stripped off his bathrobe, laying it out on the floor. He held out a hand, and Cait took it, still smiling, and he helped her to the floor. "On your stomach," he said, when she turned to lay on her back.

"Okay," she said, rolling over and pillowing her head on her arms.

He grabbed the bowls and knelt beside her, knees carefully on the edge of the bathrobe rather than the tile floor. Cait had fished a couple raspberries out of the pitcher, but he was saving those for her navel or her mouth. Instead, he carefully balanced strawberry quarters in between the knobs of her spine, starting at the base of her neck, just by where he'd licked off the chocolate, all the way down to her tailbone, just barely between the half-spheres of her bottom.

Cait shivered, dislodging one of the strawberries. "Cold."

"Not as cold as ice," Phil said, resetting it, "and I've used that on you before."

"True."

Dipping one finger into the brownie batter, he painted a shape on her left cheek, a couple inches away from the strawberry quarter. "What'd you draw on me?" she asked, lifting her head.

"A strawberry," he said, lying easily. It did perhaps look a bit like a strawberry. A bit. "Stay down. You keep knocking the strawberries off."

Cait lowered her head back to her forearms and sighed, muttering something about 'perfectionist surgeons,' and Phil fixed the strawberries she'd jostled. He sat back on his heels, looking at the contrast between the red strawberries, the dark chocolate, her creamy white skin, and the navy bathrobe, and smiled. It was probably better that she couldn't see the look on his face.

Moving so he straddled her knees, he bent over, licked the chocolate heart off her ass, and then took the first strawberry in his mouth, letting his lips linger against her skin. He did the same with the ten subsequent strawberries, and by the time he got to the strawberry at the top, Cait was gasping, her hands grasping the edge of the bathrobe. "Phil," she said, her voice breaking.

He sucked up the last strawberry, lowered his body to cover hers for a warm, lingering moment or two, and then pushed up and helped her turn over. He fed her the strawberry from his own mouth, and they kissed, again sharing the flavor.

"I think I like raspberry better," Cait said, her hands moving against his ribs.

"Me too," he said, "but we've only got two of those. Hands up."

Cait laced her fingers behind her head, and he settled between her knees, picking up the bowls again, and painting a circle around her navel with the rest of the chocolate batter before setting a raspberry in the shallow dent. He lined up peach chunks in the creases of her hips, and made a trail of strawberries up the midline of her chest before placing the second raspberry in the hollow of her throat. "Stay still," he reminded her.

"I'll try," she said, gasping again when he ate the first of the peaches. "Fuck, Phil," she said, before he'd even reached the other hip-crease. "I don't know if I'll survive this."

"Good thing I'm a doctor," he said, blowing on her pubic hair as he switched sides.

Cait laughed briefly before moaning again and wrapping one leg behind his knees.

He skipped the raspberry and chocolate by her navel, but lingered more on the front than he had on her spine, making detours along the sides of her ribs and to suck her nipples into peaks. When he reached the raspberry at her throat, he licked the sweat and juice pooling under it first before sharing it with her again, in a long, slow kiss that curled _his_ toes, let alone hers.

"You missed one," she said, when they broke for breath.

"No, I didn't," he said.

She curled up, looked at her own navel. "Oh?"

"That's my reward." He shifted onto all fours, and then crawled backwards, watching her face until she realized his goal.

"Oh," she said. " _Ohhhhh._ "

He slowly and methodically took her apart with his tongue, lips, and fingers, and if perhaps his back and knees complained about the tile floor, he ignored it, even after she sobbed his name and buried her fingers in his hair. When he was done, he licked the batter off her still-quivering stomach, ate the raspberry, and collapsed beside her.

She rolled into him, kissing him to get the raspberry and chocolate off his tongue, and buried her head in his shoulder, still panting. "Oh, God, Phil, you're wearing me out."

He kissed the top of her head and thought, _I love you._ He didn't say it, though. He never did, and neither did she, although she said it so easily to others. "I thought I was the old one here," he said out loud, and she laughed.

The timer for the brownies sounded, and she groaned, rolled away, and stood in a graceful motion, pulling the shirt back over her head. "Go shower," she said. "I'll join you in a couple minutes."

He nodded, stood, picked up his bathrobe, finding a stray strawberry and popping it in his mouth. "Take all the time you need," he said.

"It won't be long," she said as she opened the oven and poked a cake-tester in the brownies. "Ohhh, these smell _divine_."

They did, actually. Phil dropped a kiss on her temple after she set the hot pan down and headed for the bathroom.

"Oh, and Phil?" she called after him. He stopped and turned partway. "Stop drawing hearts on my ass like a lovesick teenager."

"It was a strawberry!" he protested, forcing himself to grin and join in her laughter. It followed him down the hallway and into the shower. _Damnit, Cait_ , he thought. _Damnit._


End file.
